Whisper
by Alshoruzen
Summary: One day, they think. Until then, they will wait, content with the whisper of each other's voices lingering in their ears. Two lonely souls with a wish for the future. KaiShin


Disclaimer: I do not own Detective Conan/Case Closed.

Pairing: KaitoxShinichi

Rating: M

Warnings: Graphic content

Genre: Romance/Hurt/Comfort

Summary: One day, they think. Until then, they will wait, content with the whisper of each other's voices lingering in their ears. Two lonely souls with a wish for the future.

* * *

**Whisper**

It usually happens on the nights of Kaitou KID heists. Shinichi doesn't always attend them—his case load is always heavy it seems, no matter how much work he does. But when he can manage it, he slips away and joins the cheering crowds of KID fans to watch the magician thief perform. Sometimes, if he's not too tired, he'll step in to give the police a few tips so they can go home a little less humiliated than they might otherwise have been. And when his eyes meet KID's through the chaos and scramble of the heist, he will see for the briefest of moments the thief's grin soften into a smile before it vanishes again behind his Poker Face. And he'll watch the thief fly away with a warmth in his chest and the memory of that smile lingering in his thoughts.

He always sleeps better on those nights.

More often than not, however, he can't make it to the heists. There's always work and more work, and he doesn't understand why so many people are unable to find ways to solve their problems that don't involve hurting others. And it leaves him feeling sick and forlorn.

Sometimes he wonders about the point of his existence. If everything he does is still not enough to make a difference, then why is he even here? But he pushes the thought aside and continues to solve case after case in the vain hope that maybe it will change things for the better one day, even if it is only by a little. Besides, without his work, he really wouldn't be anything at all.

Except on these nights, in these moments. These clandestine meetings in the moonlight.

A white cape billows against the night sky. A figure clad in a pristine, white suit standing beside the window that Shinichi knows was closed before.

"Good evening, Tantei-kun."

"KID."

White teeth flash in a familiar grin. "Did you miss me?"

Shinichi has, but he feigns indifference because admitting it out loud—that he marks his days by these meetings—is too embarrassing. Not, he thinks, that the master thief needs him to admit it. KID reads people like open books.

The thief shuts the window behind himself (like a good guest should, he once said, disregarding the fact that good guests did not come in via locked windows) as they exchange light banter. Shinichi stands and takes the hat that KID hands him, moving to put it on an empty space on the office shelf (a space he has left for it. There is a coat hook on the back of his door that is never used either as it was reserved for the thief's cape, when the man chooses to use it. Funny how he knows the thief's face but not his name, but more than that he knows who the thief _is_ and that is all that matters. What did a name matter when compared to an honest smile?). Returning to the desk, he leans against the edge, watching as the thief makes a quick circuit of the office, examining every corner as was his habit. He is assuring himself that they are alone and unwatched, not because he doesn't trust Shinichi but because he is Kaitou KID and he is always careful.

Shinichi closes his eyes for a moment to breathe, and when he opens them again KID is standing right in front of him. Warm breaths ghost over Shinichi's cheek and he blushes, tilting his head back to look into KID's face. There's that smile that makes him feel warm and helpless even as it lifts him up. He thinks he can hear his own heart beating. It is strange, this emotion, raw and deep. Sometimes he feels like he is suffocating, but he has no desire to fight it. Wants it to carry him away from his fears and the weight of his days.

And he thinks he can see some of that emotion reflected in the thief's face too. It is comforting in its own way, to know that this too they share.

Their eyes meet and hold, and all around them time seems to still even as it seems to start.

Then KID's mouth is on his own, the thief's tongue plunging past his lips to ravish his mouth, and he melts. The kiss tastes of coffee and chocolate and something else that has no name but is hot and intoxicating in a way all its own. Hands slide up under his shirt and he wraps his arms around KID's neck.

The thief's touch spreads fire over his skin as they undress him, exploring and worshipping every inch of his body. He lets his own hands wander, but he is careful because it is the thief's decision what he does or does not reveal whether it be about his appearance or his thoughts. It is one of the unspoken rules that allow them to be here because KID is still a thief and Shinichi is still a detective. If he doesn't ask—doesn't pry—Shinichi can pretend he doesn't know at least in the daylight. And it is a gesture of trust—that he believes KID will not make him regret his decision to be silent.

And when the thief lays him back on his desk, Shinichi spreads his legs all too willingly. He wants this. Waits for it.

The expression on Shinichi's face as KID enters him is one of the thief's favorite sights. Because he knows that, right now, Shinichi's entire world is focused on him. The play of expressions across his face and those little gasps and moans of pleasure—all of them are made for KID and KID alone.

Shinichi has to clamp a hand over his own mouth to stop himself from saying anything embarrassing like _more_ as the thief begins to move. It starts out slow—long, deep strokes that make Shinichi's toes curl. Soon, however, the pace quickens as they both revel in the closeness that makes them feel complete.

He knows he's going to have a limp tomorrow, and he supposes he should be trying to come up with an excuse that doesn't involve gentlemen thieves with wicked smiles that make his knees go weak. There are times when he feels a little guilty about his secret, but he wants to keep these moments to himself. He needs them.

He feels alive when they're together. Like he isn't alone after all. Like he matters to someone as something other than a detective—like it matters that he is _Shinichi_.

KID holds him like he's made of gold, and he can't help but surrender everything he is to the thief he has come to love.

He loses himself in the sensations.

KID drinks in the way Shinichi writhes under him and the pure pleasure written across his face like a man in the desert drinks water: eager, delighted, and desperate.

And he wants to tell Shinichi everything—about his father, about Pandora, about his mission and his dreams, but he can't. Not yet. But he has promised himself that he will, one day.

But he needs to make sure that Shinichi will be there when that day comes. Perhaps it is selfish of him, but he can't let the detective go—can't risk losing him, be it to a criminal seeking revenge for being exposed or to circumstances less sinister (he reads the crime section of the papers religously these days even when they aren't about his heists or possible copycats—keeping an eye out for even the hint of his detective's involvement in each case. And sometimes he wishes Shinichi isn't always chasing killers, but he also knows that that is just who Shinichi is). So he keeps coming, partly to make sure he knows how Shinichi is doing and partly to stake his claim. Shinichi belongs to Kaitou KID, and the thief makes sure his detective remembers. He supposes some people might say he is getting ahead of himself, but he is a thief after all.

He needs Shinichi.

The way Shinichi looks at him reminds him that he is still human. That he cannot let himself be carried away by the darkness he has chosen to walk in. Because Shinichi believes in him and he will not let his detective down.

When he feels Shinichi's body stiffen and clamp down around him, his fingers dig into the detective's hips and he gives one last thrust, making sure to push himself all the way into that delicious heat as he too comes.

For a while, they stay where they are, catching their breaths and just holding onto each other. It is with reluctance that KID pulls away from his detective, his eyes never leaving Shinichi's flushed and quivering form. It's a few moments before Shinichi can coordinate his muscles and move. He slides off the desk, keenly aware of the thief watching his every move. His legs are a little shaky, but he is used to that.

The ache in his lower back and the sticky warmth splattered across his abdomen and seeping from his stretched entrance and slithering down his inner thighs darkens the blush dusting his cheeks. KID offers to help him clean up, but much as he already misses the feeling of the thief's hands on him, he declines.

He now keeps a spare change of clothes and a box of wipes at the back of one of the drawers in his desk just for these occasions.

They straighten themselves out in silence. When they are done, Shinichi turns to KID.

"Are you staying?" he asks as he always does, feeling a little shy despite how long this has been going on (perhaps because part of him wishes that the thief would stay forever—or that he would just take Shinichi with him).

When he can't, KID will shake his head. "I would love to, but unfortunately I have some things to attend to," he will say before placing one last kiss on the detective's lips and taking his leave through the window. "Until next time, Tantei-kun."

At other times, the thief will smile. "I have a little time."

On these days, Shinichi makes coffee for himself and hot chocolate for the thief, and they sit together and talk. They never talk about anything important. Instead they talk about the news, the weather, the new book Shinichi has been reading, and other little, inconsequential things that have nothing to do with their personal lives. But the words don't really matter because all they really want is a few more moments of peace in which to enjoy each other's company.

Eventually though, the time comes when the thief has to go. And Shinichi stands by the window and watches KID's white glider disappear into the distance, his heart already aching from the loss.

One day, they think. But until then, they will wait, content with the whisper of each other's voices lingering in their ears.

**-End-**


End file.
